


you're the devil in disguise

by tonyendo



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Choking, Cult Ending, Dancing, M/M, One Shot, POV Second Person, Short One Shot, We're going on a trip in our favorite feels trip, dadsona just wanted to dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 14:03:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11693184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonyendo/pseuds/tonyendo
Summary: “It’s our song,” You teased, breaking the comfortable silence.Joseph laughed. Being this close, you could see that his eyes close a little when he laughs. “I suppose it is."





	you're the devil in disguise

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to my friend for listening to me talk about these two like they're the air i breathe. You're the real OG

Now, you’re not the most extravagant cook in the world and you were acutely aware of this. However, setting the stove on fire while boiling macaroni and cheese was a good indicator that you should order out instead.

That’s how you and Joseph had ended up on the couch, a grease-soaked delivery box on the table in front of you. You both were feeling the aftermath of all of those delicious, cheesy carbs as you sat back against the cushions, taking a few minutes to recoup.

Josephs phone was connected to Amanda’s bluetooth radio, a playlist he had made set to shuffle to fill the air. You had to admit— his taste in music was better than you would have thought at first glance. For a youth minister, he sure knew how to live a little. He was just full of surprises.

You had been so dazed, about to slip into a food-coma when you were startled by movement. The other man stood, extending his hand to you.

“Would you do me the honors of this dance?”

“Can I lift you into the air again?” He only laughed at you. You stood, taking his hand. As if he were a pro at this, he swept you up into a traditional dance stance, catching you off guard. For a moment, you gaped like a fish out of water before beginning to dance with him.

The moment the two of you were sharing was fit for an Oscar-worthy romance. It felt as though time had slowed down, yet the music was playing normally while you danced in slow motion, eyes locked in a loving (and somewhat lustful) gaze. One hand on his shoulder, the other his, fingers intertwined as you dipped and swayed to the upbeat music streaming from his phone. After the song you had been listening to ended, another one began, the opening chords all too familiar.

“It’s our song,” You teased, breaking the comfortable silence.

Joseph laughed. Being this close, you could see that his eyes close a little when he laughs. “I suppose it is,” he responded, his expression softening into a smile. He pushed you away before pulling you back in, causing you to laugh. “After all that talk of finding Margaritaville, right? Though, I much rather prefer our little Margarita Zone. And I like to think that I’ve found that lost shaker of salt.” As he said this, his blue eyes met yours. You had to look away as your face heated up.

“Well.. I’m glad,” You replied lamely. “This shaker of salt wants to be with no one else.”

Again, he laughed. “Me either.”

The two of you turned, not a care in the world as you got lost in the rhythm. He let his chin rest on the top of your head as he lead you in circles around your living room, dodging the furniture. His angelic, enchanting voice melded with the music as he began to sing along. Your head went to rest on his shoulder as the two of you continued to dance. There was nothing that could pop the peaceful little bubble the two of you were were sharing. The next song began to play once Jimmy Buffet had finished singing about paradise.

Huh. You didn't peg him for the Elvis type either.

* * *

 

Your back was against the stone floor, a warmth pressing against you. A crazed look in those beautiful blue eyes, his weight against your hips but it was all _wrong_ , it shouldn’t be like _this._

Those hands—those hands you had loved so much, those _skilled_ and _perfect hands—_ pressing down, suffocating. Thumbs, digging into your windpipe, your Adam's apple. It hurt—it _hurt—_ why was he _hurting_ you—?

Burning. Your lungs, they were burning. Your fingers ached as you clawed at those perfectly manicured hands, your lungs _ached_ as you _struggled_ to drink in air.

You stared at him—not Joseph, never Joseph, he wouldn't do this to you—You stared in horror, trying, trying to get _away_ and get _air_ —

You were losing the fight. There wasn't much of one to begin with, Joseph had every advantage in the situation.

Joseph, who was the youth minister. Joseph, who made the Margarita Zone. _Joseph_ , who was _killing you_.

Your mind was beginning to grow foggy, your vision dimming. Your ears were ringing. Everything was muted except that _damn music_ and that _damned voice_.

“What's wrong, sweetheart?” Joseph sneered, venom dripping from his words. “I thought this was our song?”


End file.
